Sherlock - The Game Is On!

The Lying Detective- One

Chapter One

Third POV

Mr & Mrs Watson lie in bed.

A few hours later they appear in a different home. For counselling. "Tell me about your mornings. Start from the beginning." John looks to Mary, who squeezes his hand in support. "I woke up." Mary looks to him, disapprovingly.

After the video that Michelle created, John came clean to his wife. They wanted to work through this. So they did the next best thing that they could think of. They got couple's counselling to talk about their relationship and other things...

He smiles tightly. He sits in a love chair next to his wife. A few feet away from them, a woman sits in a low armchair. Dark blue floor-length curtains are tied back either side of French windows at the rear of the room, looking out into the back garden, and similar curtains hang either side of a smaller window beside him. On a table under the smaller window stands the vase of flowers. There is a jagged red rug on the floor between John, Mary and the woman.

"How did you both sleep?"

"We didn't."

"You just said you woke up."

"We stopped lying down."

"Alone?" She questions. "No." The therapist has ash blonde shoulder-length hair and is wearing glasses. She has a notebook on her lap. "And what about your daughter?"

"She's with friends." Mary answered. "Why?" John turns to look at Mary. She nods encouragingly. "Last night wasn't... Good."

"That's understandable." The therapist sympathies. "Is it? Why? Why is it understandable? Why does everything have to be understandable?" He smiles and then laughs bitterly. "Why can't, um, some things be unacceptable and we just say that?" He gestures briefly at the end of the sentence, then lowers his hand onto the other one and taps his index finger against it. "I only mean it's okay."

"I'm letting our daughter down for my own selfish needs. How the hell is that okay?"

"You just lost someone who plays at large to your lives."

"She's not dead. She's fighting for her life." He pulls in a harsh breath; Correcting the therapist, then clears his throat.
"You are holding yourself to an unreasonable standard."

"No, I'm failing to."

"So there is no one you talk to, confide in?"

"Besides my wife, not really but we're paying you to help us out." He nods to himself approvingly. "Mary, what is it that you currently feel?" The therapist turns to ask her. She sighs heavily. "I feel as though I'm not good enough. We've been married just over eighteen months, we have a daughter together and I feel useless." She opens up honestly. "John, how do you reply to that?" The therapist turns to ask.

He turns to his wife, holding her hand again. "You are good enough. Having the name of Mary Watson, is good enough for me. I was stupid to ever think differently of that."

"Who made the decision to take a step into couples counselling?"

"I did." Mary answers. "We watched a video that Michelle created, she urged John to become honest with me. He never cheated on me, and for that, I feel as though we can work through this. It's just a rough patch."

"I'm picking up Rosie this afternoon." John states randomly. The counsellor smiles. "That's good. Perhaps Rosie can bring you two close together again. Is there anything else you're not telling me?"

In her consultation room, John bites his lip and then presses his lips together. After a moment he looks up and over the therapist's left shoulder. Mary sits by him, looking off into the distance. John huffs out a small laugh. "No." He clears his throat awkwardly. "What are you looking at?" She turns in her chair and looks towards where John was looking. "Nothing." He shakes off. "You keep glancing to my left."

"Oh, I suppose I was just... Looking away." He laughs nervously. Mary nods encouragingly for him to tell her. "There is a difference between looking away and looking to. I tend to notice these things."

"I'm sure."

"Now I am reminding you of your friend, I think."

"Which one?"

"Do you talk to Sherlock Holmes?"

"We haven't seen him. No one's seen him. He's locked himself away in his flat. God knows what he's up to."

"Do you blame him for Michelle's situation?" John twiddles his thumbs compulsively. "I don't blame him. I just wish he'd shut his mouth sometimes." He laughs sadly. "Has he attempted to make contact with you?"

"No."

"How can you be sure? He might have tried."

"No, if Sherlock Holmes wants to get in touch, that's not something you can fail to notice." Mary smiles appreciatively to John, admiring his honesty. He sighs out a breath through his nose.

Just then the sound of a car accelerating hard can be heard outside. The couple turn their heads towards the front room and a red car comes into view through the window, does a dramatic U-turn with a squeal of tyres and stops outside the house.

There's the sound of shattering glass and a black plastic rubbish bin flies through the air and crashes to the ground. John, Mary and the therapist get up from their seats and walk towards the front door as the sound of an approaching police car's siren can be heard. John opens the front door and walks outside just as a helicopter can be heard overhead. Mary looks at the expensive looking red car and then squints upwards towards the helicopter, while the police siren continues to wail.

Smoke is still rising from the car's tortured tyres. Police cars are just pulling up from both ends of the road. Back on the ground, they see the badge on the front of the car showing that it's an Aston Martin. The driver's door opens and the sound of Beethoven's Symphony No. 9 (Ode to Joy) can be heard from the car's stereo. The driver gets out but the person surprised everyone around. John and Mary squint up at the helicopter again.

"Well, now... Won't you introduce me?" John and Mary continue to stare at the driver in disbelief...